Ties
by Joey51
Summary: Ryan's birthday is the last thing on his mind. OCSFC.
1. Prologue

_This is my second of two sentence challenge stories from the OCSFC. However, unlike the first, this one's a work in progress. _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

**Ties**

Prologue

Seth was greeted with a lazy nod from his mother before she took a cautious sip from her steaming mug of coffee. "Did you know that Friday's Ryan's birthday?" she asked quietly.

Seth nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"He told you?"

"No, I was going through his wallet and I suck a peek at his driver's license when he wasn't looking."

A perplexed expression crossed her face, but she appeared to be willing to shrug off the peculiarity of Seth's confession for the time being. "How do you think he feels about surprises?"

"Do you mean, like, 'Surprise! It's a brand new car!' or 'Surprise! You've been abandoned by your mother!'?"

"Seth," she warned, but he cut her off before she could continue.

"Because if you're referring to the latter, I'm gonna have to go with 'not good.' However, if you're considering purchasing him a vehicle, I think he'd lean quite favorably toward surprises. And if you do go that route, I would be more than happy to hold onto the keys. You know, until Friday rolls around. And seeing as how you guys are all about equal opportunities, and my birthday's only a month away, I'm thinking a sweet ride would be your best gift choice." He finished with a smug smile.

His mom rolled her eyes while manipulating what remained of her bagel on the plate in front of her. "A party, Seth, not a _sweet ride_."

"A party? We're talking about Ryan, right? Ryan Atwood?"

"I know that he wouldn't want us to plan a party for him, but that's why I wanted to make it a surprise. I thought that if he didn't know about it, he wouldn't have a chance to object and would have to enjoy himself."

"Yeah, because around here, parties are all about enjoying yourself."

"This one would be. We could invite his friends and some family."

"By friends, I'm guessing you mean me, Marissa, Summer and Luke; and even that's a stretch. And by family, who exactly are you referring to?"

"He's got to have some family…."

"Yeah, that's why he's living with us."

"Has he ever mentioned any cousins or anything?"

Seth scoffed at his mother. "He's never even mentioned his dad, let alone cousins."

"His father's in prison, Seth."

"I know. All the more reason to talk about him. That's got to be an interesting story to tell."

"What's got to be an interesting story to tell?" The sudden sound of Ryan's voice caused a panic to surge through Seth's chest.

"The, uh, Cuban missile crisis," Seth stammered and swallowed deeply. "You know, that Khrushchev guy…the Kennedy administration…Soviet weaponry…. It's all very fascinating, really." He finished breathlessly as he tried to manage his discomfort and avoid Ryan's eyes, hoping that he hadn't overheard the tail end of the conversation regarding his father .

"Yeah, okay." Ryan shook his head and reached for a bowl.

"What are you boys doing after school?" Seth let out a sigh of relief when his mom changed the subject, allowing Seth to abandon the verbal rampage he felt building within his gut.

"I have Lit Mag. I figure if I keep writing, one day they'll have to give in and publish my work."

Ryan grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard and began filling his bowl. "Maybe if you didn't write about plastic horses, they would."

"I gave Captain Oats one cameo! You people need to open your minds a little." His mom shook her head and turned to address Ryan.

"What about you, Ryan? What are you doing after school?"

Ryan pushed his cereal around the bowl until every last morsel was saturated with milk. "Studying, I guess. I don't know; haven't really thought about it."

"Would you be able to come down to the new subdivision and help move furniture into the model home?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

Seth was awed that Ryan answered without the slightest hesitation. Moving furniture could just be the worst job in the world - especially in ninety-degree weather - but Ryan hadn't even flinched. He obviously felt obligated.

Seth on the other hand, knew exactly how to avoid these situations when they arose. "Mom, were you seriously going to ask me to move furniture?"

"What? Are you too good for that?" she openly mocked him.

"That's debatable, but don't you remember me trying to move my bed? I was laid up for a month."

"Seth, don't exaggerate." She turned to refill her mug.

Seth waited until his mother turned her back before he placed a hand to his lower-back and mouthed, "A month!" to Ryan.

"I can pick you up after school, Ryan. Three-thirty out front?" She turned back around and Seth promptly put on his mask of over-emphasized innocence.

"Sure." Ryan nodded, still smiling from Seth's demonstration.

She suspiciously grinned as her eyes drifted from Seth to Ryan and back again. "Three-thirty it is."

………………………………...

"Just put it right over here. Not too close to the walls!" The flustered women held her hands on either side of her face, ready to cover her eyes in the event of disaster.

Ryan gently placed the end table on the ceramic floor. The woman smiled tightly, fiddling with her rings as stepped back to appraise new the layout of the foyer.

"Good," she mumbled to herself, then turned back to Ryan with a nod. "Good. Now go help Gregory move in the entertainment unit into the master bedroom."

A loud thump came from the kitchen, and Ryan waited until the uptight woman had turned around to face the noise before he lifted up the bottom of his damp t-shirt to wipe his face. With all the money the Newport Group had spent on ridiculous things such as a 50-inch television for a bedroom that no one was even going to sleep in, he figured they could at least have waited to move everything in until the air conditioning was installed. The heat in the enormous house was stifling, but it didn't appear as though the small, anxious woman had even broken a sweat in her thick pantsuit.

Apparently the noise from the kitchen wasn't enough to warrant her presence because after a few seconds, she spun on her heel to face Ryan again, waving her hands in a shooing motion.

"Go on now. The unit's heavy, Gregory can't move it until you're there to help him."

Ryan pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, reluctantly nodding at the power-tripping woman.

"Hey, kid." Ryan felt a hand on his shoulder to go along with Kirsten's voice. "Here," she said, handing him an icy cold bottle of water. He eagerly accepted the offering, savoring the feeling of the condensation from the bottle against his palm. He couldn't open and drain half the bottle into his mouth fast enough.

"Kirsten!" The woman smiled nervously, her heavily made-up face creasing in places where creases should never exist.

"Mary." Kirsten sounded genuinely perturbed. "It's too hot in here to push these kids so hard. When was the last time you offered them water?"

If the woman's face wasn't plastered with a thick layer of tope foundation, Ryan was sure she would have turned beet red.

"I thought…I thought there was a cooler somewhere."

Kirsten moved forward a couple of steps until she was standing between Ryan and his dictator, keeping her hand on his shoulder as she spoke. "No, there isn't. Ryan, honey, can you go tell the other kids that there are water bottles in the fridge that they can help themselves to?"

"Sure." Ryan smiled at Kirsten, turning and feeling her hand slip off his shoulder as he stepped out of her reach. As much as he wanted to stick around to watch Kirsten chastised the woman further, he needed to get outside where there was a breeze.

Just as he was stepping out the door, he came face to face with Caleb Nichol.

"Ryan," Caleb grumbled with a nod. Ryan couldn't blame the man for being somewhat cynical. Especially when taking into consideration what happened the last time Ryan set foot in one of The Newport Group's model homes.

"Mr. Nichol." Ryan acknowledged the man without looking up and fiddled with the soggy label on the half-empty bottle of water.

"Kiki!" Caleb called out to his daughter, pushing through and abandoning Ryan in the marble-trimmed entranceway.

Ryan waited until Caleb had fully entered the foyer before turning and heading toward the kitchen, where he opened the fridge and pulled out another bottle of frosty water. He made his way back out the front door and toward the gigantic truck that had been backed into the interlocked-brick driveway. Greg, whose father was an accountant for The Newport Group, was sitting on the edge of the rear of the truck, his legs swinging limply in the open space between the truck and the ground.

"Here, man." Ryan smiled and offered Greg the water.

"Sweet. Thanks." Greg gratefully snatched the bottle out of Ryan's hands. "How much are we getting paid to work in hell?" Greg asked once he'd taken a long sip.

"I'm just doing Kirsten a favor." For reasons Ryan couldn't quite identify, he felt slightly self-conscious revealing the information to Greg.

"Kirsten Cohen? You know her?"

"She's…uh…yeah, I guess you could say that." Ryan shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"My dad says she's really nice. I can't say one way or another, I just hope she realizes that I, unlike you, am not doing this out of the goodness of my heart," Greg joked with a tilt of his head.

Ryan smiled and drained what remained of his water in one final gulp before tossing the bottle into the empty cardboard box acting as a garbage. "It's not going to move itself." Ryan wiped at his face with his shirt one more time before they tackled the ridiculously large entertainment unit.

"Ugh." Greg let out an exaggerated groan while pushing himself onto his feet . "Let's get this over with."

………………………………...

"Thank-you so much, guys. I know it's hot as hell in here, but really, the place looks great."

"No problem." Ryan smiled at Kirsten's gratitude, overwhelmed that something he'd done, and hadn't considered to be a big deal, had made her so happy.

"You guys don't mind cash, do you?" Kirsten's face broke into a large grin when most of the boys immediately shook their heads.

She started at one end of the line, handing each of the workers two, 50 dollar bills, all of whom appeared thoroughly satisfied at the amount of pay for only four hours' work. Despite the grueling conditions, the intense labor was suddenly worth every drop of sweat.

Ryan backed away when Kirsten reached him at the end of the line.

"Ryan," she pleaded quietly, "please take the money. You worked just as hard, if not harder, than everyone else."

He smiled and shook his head. "You don't have to pay me. Consider it a favor." He looked down and hoped she would accept his reasoning and drop the matter entirely. He couldn't take money from her. Not after all her family had done for him.

"Am I hearing this correctly? Is someone turning down money?" Ryan and Kirsten both turned their heads to see Caleb approaching. Ryan relaxed immediately when he saw that the usually scary man was smiling with a proud expression on his face.

Kirsten shrugged, the hand clutching the hundred dollars in cash fell to her side. "That would appear to be the case."

Caleb grinned at Ryan, placing a hand on his shoulder. Ryan tensed, but if Caleb noticed, he didn't let on. "You did good today, kid."

"Thanks." Ryan did his best not to stutter in his astonished state. Caleb had barely spoken two words to him since they'd met, and the sudden acknowledgment and appreciation left Ryan dumbfounded.

"If you're interested, and only if you really want to, there's some work with your name on it at The Newport Group. A couple nights a week after school, that's it. The only catch is you'd have to accept being paid. I don't want the child labor coalition up my ass." Caleb laughed at his own joke, but Ryan couldn't help but think the man was serious. It was always business with Caleb Nichol.

"Yeah." Ryan accepted immediately. "That would be great. Thank-you."

"You worked hard today. I was impressed. You deserve it."

"Thanks." Ryan could see Kirsten beaming in his peripheral vision. He didn't know who she was more proud of, him or her father.

"I'll let Kirsten know the details and we'll get you started next week." Caleb extended his hand. Ryan accepted, shaking firmly. He had no idea that all it took to earn Caleb Nichol's appreciation was to turn down his money.

Kirsten turned to face Ryan once Caleb had walked away. "You really want to do this?" She sounded so hopeful that even if Ryan hadn't wanted to be involved, which he did, he wouldn't have been able to tell her otherwise.

"Yeah. I can't wait."

Her smile spoke volumes. Ryan knew she was proud and that was better than any amount of pay he could have received for the four hours of hell he'd had to endure.

"I think tonight's a take-out night. We'll pick something up on the way home." She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and lead him toward the door. "And I love you, but you're going to have to shower before you eat," she teased.

Ryan nodded in agreement. "Trust me, there's nothing I want to do more."

………………………..


	2. Chapter One

_A/N- I was not expecting such a great response for the first chapter. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews._

_I think that a couple people asked what TWoP and OCSFC mean. Television Without Pity, and The OC Sentence Fiction Challenge, respectively. I know that's an acronymic mess and I should have explained that earlier. Hope that helps. _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. _

**Ties**

Chapter One

Ryan's chin subtly moved back and forth to the beat of the photocopier. He'd lost count at 312, but it didn't matter, the copier would keep count. Still, the methodic whoosh and hum of each page as it entered and exited the machine was considerably hypnotizing and he found himself somewhat disappointed when the room became filled with silence.

He straightened his freshly pressed shirt before leaning down to pick up the stack of copies. For his first couple of days at The Newport Group, Kirsten had bought him two entirely new outfits. Ryan had been nervous enough starting just a day after Caleb had offered him the job, especially considering the fact that he'd had little to no time to prepare, but Kirsten's fussing had only compounded his apprehension. Apparently, with several new commercial buildings and residential areas in establishment, they needed all the help they could get; Ryan had no qualms about being the gopher.

Yesterday, Kirsten had shown up at Harbor to pick Ryan up for his first day at work with a garment bag containing one of Ryan's newest additions to his wardrobe. She'd forced him to change at school, claiming that even though he'd been to The Newport Group before, first impressions were crucial when starting a new job. He couldn't pinpoint whether or not Kirsten was fussing because she felt obligated to prepare him for the real world, or if she was worried that Ryan's unpolished presence could significantly tarnish her reputation. Ryan supposed it didn't really matter, but up to that point, he hadn't really been nervous. Up to that point….

So when he'd shown up at work today and found Kirsten's office empty, save for the wardrobe bag draped across the chair, he'd been quite relieved. A post-it note with his name on it and a short explanation about how she had some errands to run, was stuck loosely to the plastic. Soothing his own nerves was a large enough task as it was; he didn't want to have to worry about Kirsten's.

"Done?"

Ryan's head snapped up. Heather, one of the company's younger employees, was standing in the doorway of the copy room, a questioning smile on her face.

Ryan felt the sharp edges of the paper cutting into his skin before he realized he was gripping the stack of copies against his chest. He slowly uncurled his fingers and lowered the documents, smiling shyly.

There was nothing to be nervous about with Heather. She didn't expect him to grovel at her feet or kiss the ground she walked on; it appeared as though she was simply satisfied to have been assigned company. She'd even absorbed some of the blame for an error Ryan had made the day before when he'd thrown out a confidential document without first sending it through the shredder¾something that Ryan had quickly learned was a major faux pas. His mind had immediately been filled with images of black-clad bandits, sorting through the dumpsters after hours, searching for un-shred documents. It seemed ridiculous, but he wasn't going to argue; he was the first to admit he didn't know the first thing about running a major company. All he new was that the job paid a hell of a lot better than the Crab Shack.

"Yeah. Done."

"Good. Don't bleed all over them, though." She smiled and winked. Ryan eyes dropped to his hands, suddenly aware of the blood flowing freely from a paper cut on his index finger.

"Here." She offered him a tissue that she'd grabbed from the box on the shelves behind her. "I'll take those."

Ryan gratefully accepted and followed Heather into the hallway.

"I was going to ask you to have a look at the new plans for the strip mall, but the last thing I need is your blood on the prints. The architects would have my head. So," she said, turning her head briefly to make sure Ryan was keeping up, "I think we'll find you something else to do until you stop leaking."

Ryan nodded to her back and wrapped the tissue tighter around his finger.

Heather stopped behind her desk, slamming down the stack of copies. Ryan reluctantly sat in the chair facing her. He still felt weird sitting on the job.

"Heather."

Heather didn't flinch at the imposing voice; instead, she finished arranging her mail before lifting her head to acknowledge the big boss. "Mr. Nichol." Her voice was certain, her smile confident.

Caleb's eyes drifted to Ryan. Caleb nodded. Ryan nodded back.

"How's our newest employee doing?" Caleb posed the question without the slightest bit of sarcasm - at least, none that Ryan could detect.

"Well, besides having to deal with a nearly-fatal photocopying wound, he's doing just fine."

Ryan blushed at Heather's comment. Even though she was probably the youngest employee at her level in the company, she had an unwavering confidence that Ryan couldn't help but attribute to her success. He'd seen people scurry like rats when Caleb walked through the halls, but Heather remained calm, cool and collected. Ryan had a tremendous amount of respect for the woman.

"Good." Caleb smiled; the wrinkles around his eyes conveyed the sincerity of his gesture. He pulled back his shoulders and his faced changed instantly, becoming harder¾colder. Ryan could literally see the man switching gears. "I want the plans for the strip mall on my desk by tomorrow morning."

Ryan felt his own chest tighten as Caleb delivered the firm demand, but Heather casually leaned back in her chair, maintaining eye contact with her intimidator.

"You'll have them by six. Tonight," she shot back, her voice equally bitter.

Caleb smiled widely. "That's what I like to hear." He shifted to face Ryan. "Good luck keeping up with her."

For lack of a better response, Ryan smiled back and nodded. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to talk to Caleb - still thrown by the powerful man's sudden acquiescence. Caleb, however, seemed satisfied and continued on his way down the hall.

Ryan noticed that there were countless eyes on Heather and himself. Caleb had his employees by the tail¾and it was working for him.

"Now what the hell do I do with you while I'm slaving over these plans?" Heather's brow creased in thought as she fiddled with a pen.

"You seem pretty comfortable with Mr. Nichol," Ryan stated quietly.

She immediately stopped fiddling and met Ryan's eyes, looking around while formulating a response. "Between you and me," she said, leaning in over her desk and dropping her voice to a whisper, "the man scares the shit out of me."

Ryan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Never in a million years would he have expected that response. Heather had seemed so at ease with Caleb - with everything.

Heather must have noted his shock because she laughed lightly. "Surprised, are you?"

"Well…you just seemed so…."

"Confident?"

Ryan shrugged and nodded; he supposed that accurately described Heather's demeanor.

"Let me let you in a little secret, Ryan. There isn't a chance in hell I'm going to have those plans done by six. Caleb leaves at five-thirty. Everyday. Like clock work. Do you think he gives a rat's ass whether or not they're on his desk by six tonight?"

Ryan opened his mouth to respond but Heather continued before he could get a word in.

"It's all about pleasing the right people, kid. Say the right things at the right time with the right poise, and you'll do just fine."

Ryan smiled, slightly baffled by Heather's explanation. She made it all look so easy.

"Like you, for instance. Don't get me wrong, I like you, Ryan, I really do, but facts remain that you're my boss' son. Disliking you… it isn't an option." She leaned back and smiled. She was honest. She had it all figured out.

Ryan manipulated the shredded pieces of tissue with his fingers, suddenly uncomfortable that the conversation was now revolving around him.

"Anyway…." Heather smiled genuinely, but Ryan was starting to question his perception of the person he'd thought was truly sincere. "Why don't you run this down to accounting for me? Just hand it over to Fred. He'll know what to do with it."

Ryan rose from his seat and accepted the binder from Heather's outstretched hands.

"Where-"

"East wing, third door past the elevators on your right," she interrupted before Ryan ask.

"And just give it to Fred?"

"That's all there is to it, kid. I'd let you help me here, but those numbers have to be in by five and, honestly, I don't want you around my plans with bloody fingers."

Ryan couldn't help but smile. Heather might be manipulative and scheming, but he still had a considerable amount of respect for her. Really, she was no different than everyone else trying to climb the corporate ladder, she'd just figured out how to play the game.

"Hold up," she called out, halting Ryan before he'd reached the corner. "Here," she removed her company card from the key chain attached to her belt loop. "You're probably going to need this to get in. I doubt your card's been coded for entry to accounting."

"Oh." Ryan was confused, he had no idea that certain employees were forbidden access to certain rooms. "You sure you want me to use yours?" He wasn't quite sure why he has nervous about accepting her card, but it struck him as dangerous.

"You go in, hand the binder to Fred, and leave. I'm under the impression you're not going to trash the place and lay the blame on me, right?" Her sarcasm wasn't lost on Ryan.

"I think the cameras would give me away." He smiled, gesturing to the nearest corner where a security camera was sited.

Heather stared at the wall, her faced lined with consideration, obviously deep in thought. "Not in accounting," she said quietly, turning to face Ryan.

"What?"

"There are no cameras in accounting," she repeated, her voice daring Ryan to ask another question.

"Oh…." To Ryan, it made no sense. He figured that if they were to have cameras anywhere, accounting would be the first place.

Heather turned when her phone started ringing. She seemed to be fighting some sort of internal battle. Finally, she turned back toward Ryan, her speech was rushed but still confident. "Just go, give it to Fred, and come back," she demanded with the same expression she'd adorned when she was addressing Caleb.

"Okay." Ryan accepted her card, his stomach churning with nervousness. He realized there was plenty he had to learn about working in such a large company, but he was afraid there was some information he didn't want to know.

"I mean it, Ryan," she warned over her shoulder as she walked toward her phone.

If Ryan didn't know any better, he'd say Heather had just showed weakness.

………………………

"A piñata? Yeah, that's a really good idea, Mom. Encourage violence at a Newport party."

"It's just for decoration." Seth watched his mom grab the multi-colored piñata under her arm while heading toward the garage where a stash of Ryan's party supplies already existed. "Besides, I thought we'd go for a light-hearted fiesta theme."

"Do you remember what happened the last time we were in Mexico? Or has that slipped your mind completely?"

The look on his mother's face prompted Seth to backpedal. Reminding her of Tijuana probably wasn't the smartest of all ideas. "Fiesta's good…yeah, that's fine. Fine…light-hearted. Excellent," he exaggerated through clenched teeth, finishing with two thumbs up.

She shook her head at his feigned enthusiasm as she returned from the secret storage area. "Don't ruin this for me, Seth."

"I'm thinking that this isn't so much about you, and it's a whole lot about Ryan." Seth zoned in on the half-read comic book on the counter in front of him while addressing his mother. "And I gotta tell ya, Mom, I can't see him being too thrilled about a party…especially one that completely revolves around him. I don't think there's enough tequila in the world…."

"There won't be tequila…."

"Well then, it's decided. The party will be a disaster."

"Seth!"

Seth shrugged in defeat, keeping his eyes on the detailed drawings of the comic book.

"I'm going to need you here on Friday after school. Ryan will be working and I'll need your help to set things up for when he comes home."

"I can't believe Grandpa hired him."

"Why? Ryan's an excellent worker."

"Not Ryan." Seth shook his head, flipping the comic book closed. "I can't believe Grandpa."

Kirsten smiled at her son's comment. She, too, had been mildly shocked when her father had offered Ryan a position at the family company. It was a step toward what she hoped would soon become a full-fledged acceptance party. Of all people, Ryan deserved it.

……………………….


End file.
